


Mirror, am I pretty yet?

by professor_moony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor_moony/pseuds/professor_moony
Summary: The next morning, Marlene shows her wand movements that make her hair fall around her shoulders, frizz free and curled. She tells her the incantations that apply lipstick and mascara expertly, in a matter of seconds. Lily thinks of the way her mother sits at her dresser in the morning and painstakingly applies make up with a steady, practiced hand and secretly thinks that the magical way looks rather gaudy.But she’s fascinated by it none the less. It’s not like the charms she learns in class – it’s elegant, a woman’s magic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be more about Lily's coming of age than about sex but what you can you do? I made a post on my tumblr (professormoony) about wanting more fics where James and Lily are awkward teenagers but the idea of Lily being sexually curious kind of carried this fic more than anything else.

_If the moon smiled, she would resemble you._  
_You leave the same impression_  
_Of something beautiful, but annihilating._

 

The Rival Poem, Sylvia Plath

* * *

She doesn’t pay much attention to the male population as a whole until her sixth year of school when she notices how _handsome_ Thomas Edwards is.

Mary agrees. “He’s dishy,” she says, flicking through a Muggle magazine lazily. Her lovely blonde curls are mused, her face creased from lying in bed but she is still painfully pretty, in an effortless, feminine way that Lily is not. “And older too! What a catch.”

But Thomas Edwards is a Ravenclaw, and a year above her. He doesn’t seem to notice her at all, apart from as a Prefect authority. 

“Well, your skirts are far too long to start,” Marlene says, when Lily goes to her for advice in getting his attention. Marlene, from the famous McKinnon’s, spent her childhood growing up with all proper pureblood boys so she has a good understanding of the male mind. “Guys like a bit of leg.”

So she wears an old skirt that falls a couple of inches before her knee the next day. Thomas Edwards doesn’t notice but Sev watches her from the back corner of the Potions classroom and Lily crosses her ankles self-consciously.

“Of course he didn’t notice your skirt!” Mary laughs, when Lily complains to her that evening about the uselessness of Marlene’s advice. “That is not a way to get a man’s attention. You need to be _sexy_.”

Lily Evans is pretty, sweet, and, on a good day, could be considered beautiful. But – she has never been sexy. She’s stuck on Mary’s words – unlike the boys that she’s had crushes on before, Thomas is a man…Lily blushes at the term.

She wants Thomas Edwards to be the man to her woman and all that comes with it. She lies in her four poster bed and thinks of his hands on her thighs, on her breasts, of his mouth between her –

The next morning, Marlene shows her wand movements that make her hair fall around her shoulders, frizz free and curled. She tells her the incantations that apply lipstick and mascara expertly, in a matter of seconds. Lily thinks of the way her mother sits at her dresser in the morning and painstakingly applies make up with a steady, practiced hand and secretly thinks that the magical way looks rather gaudy.

But she’s fascinated by it none the less. It’s not like the charms she learns in class – it’s elegant, a _woman’s_ magic.

Marlene grins at her one morning when she practices it in front of her mirror. “You look beautiful, Evans,” she says affectionately, patting her shoulder.

The mirror agrees. “You’re growing up to be a very fine young lady.”

Lily’s not sure if she looks beautiful. She thinks about Petunia, how she curls her hair and applies blood red lipstick that make the angles of her face appear harsh and drawn. Her and her sister have always been painfully similar in certain ways, and Lily crosses her fingers and hopes that she doesn’t look as ridiculous as she feels.

When they go down to the Great Hall there is a knot of nervousness in her stomach that she can’t shake. They sit down at the Gryffindor table and Marlene and Mary start to prepare their breakfast, talking about the classes that they have that day. Lily tries very hard not to look at the Ravenclaw table to try and steal a glimpse of Thomas.

“Alright, Evans?” She startles and looks over her shoulder to see Potter standing behind her with a strange look on his face.

“’Lo, Potter,” she greets between a mouthful of toast. He hesitates for a second too long, looking awkward, and Lily considers saying something -- but he’s gone once again before she gets a chance, joining his mates further along the table.

Mary raises her eyebrows from across the table. “Odd bloke,” she comments, blue eyes darting to where the Marauders are sitting and then back to Lily again. “Do you think he fancies you again?”

Lily blushes, “I doubt it.”

“James is very handsome,” Mary says, and in a whisper, “Very wealthy too from what I hear.”

Lily vehemently states that she doesn’t care about wealth and _especially_ doesn’t care about James Potter. Mary only wiggles her eyebrows teasingly until Lily gets so frustrated that she gives up the conversation completely.  

She feels shy during the day, uncomfortably conscious of every look in her direction. Slughorn tells her that’s growing up nicely and Lily has to try very hard not to visibly cringe in reaction.

In Charms, Sirius Black’s eyes follow the shape of her waist and legs slowly and predatorily. She feels hot under her skin, uncomfortable with his grey eyes and incredibly grateful when Potter notices and smacks his friend round the back of his head.

“Fucking twat,” she overhears him mutter angrily. Black barks with laughter and winks at her when she catches his eye.

Potter doesn’t stare in a way that makes it obvious how much he wants to. She feels his eyes dart around her shoulders and feet, never lingering in one space for too long. There is a burning feeling inside of her every time he looks over that makes her feel like she’ll combust if he gazes for too long.

He stares at the back of her head in Charms. Mary says, _a witch always knows_ , and she thinks about the way Potter watches her, the way he flinches when she brushes by him on accident, as if her skin can burn. He wants her and Mary’s right – she does know.

Lily shifts her hips in her chair, flicks her hair over her shoulder and feels powerful when she hears a sharp intake from behind her.

* * *

Then – _finally_ – she walks past Thomas in the corridor and he smiles at her.

It’s a half smile, and a touch confused like he’s seeing her for the first time, but his blue eyes are curious and she can tell he’s looking at the way her ass moves when she walks. Mary and Marlene would tell her to be pleased but Lily only wishes she had put her cloak on.

The next few weeks Thomas Edwards appears around her in a frequency that he hadn’t before. Her friends gush over how the charms and short skirts and all of their advice actually worked. She doesn’t revel in his attention as much as she thought she would.

Mary tells her wisely that it won’t be long until Thomas is asking her on a date. “Boys are predictable, Lily,” she says one night in between painting her toenails a hot pink. “They might pretend otherwise but once you know what they want they’re easy to manipulate. And boys only ever want sex.”

Lily does not have a whole lot of practical experience with sex. She’s kissed a few boys – chaste, mouth closed – but nothing more. Although Mary is undeniably the prettiest, Marlene is the only one of her friends who has actually done the deed so far and she doesn’t speak favourably of it.

“It’s weird,” she explains one night, a silencing charm placed around Mary’s drapes to keep their other roommates from hearing.  “It’s awkward. When he first went in it really hurt too.”

She imagines having sex with Thomas and feels warm at the thought. She thinks that he would hold her, her first time, and he would be gentle and loving and all those things that a gentleman should be. She doesn’t tell her friends about her romantic notions, wary of being teased for her fanciful thoughts.  

But she craves that affection from him, so in the mornings she wakes up and charms her hair and face and puts on a shirt that is a size too small. She notices when boys look at the curve of her breasts and still isn’t sure whether she likes it or not.

Thomas corners her after lunch one day, his mates sniggering as he waves them on before looking back at her bashfully. “’Lo, Evans,” he says cheerfully. “I wanted to ask if you’d fancy doing something, the two of us some time?”

She says yes and he tucks a bit of hair behind her ear, shyly.

Lily can’t help but think of Mary’s words -- _boys only ever want sex_.

Mary and Marlene are overjoyed – of course. They squeal and make her recount every single movement that he made and help her deconstruct it and try and figure out what it all might mean. They are in unanimous agreement that the hair behind the ear is a very good thing.

The next day she drifts around the hallways, feeling like she’s in a dream. A tall, handsome and older boy has asked her on a date and life is going very good indeed. Or it is – until Potter catches at her wrist after Transfiguration, pulling her into an alcove. 

“Edwards?” He asks darkly, his grip on her so tight it hurts. Lily’s heart skips in her chest but she ignores it and pulls her wrist away from him quickly, rubbing at it.

“You don’t have to drag me around Potter,” she snaps. “And what about Edwards?”

 “He’s not –“ Potter looks lost, his dishevelled hair pointing in a million directions at once. He’s very tall – taller than Thomas even – and when he glares down at her he has to crane his neck a little bit. “He’s not a gentleman.”

A _gentleman_? Whatever she had been expecting it hadn’t been that.

“Are you?” Lily asks. It’s a bit cheeky and a lot dangerous. Her cheeks flush with heat and her fair skin gives away the blush too easily.

Potter stares at her for a long moment before swallowing thickly. “No,” he finally says. “No, I’m not really.”

It seems she distracted him enough to not say anything else about Thomas, because he walks away after that leaving Lily confused and breathless in the alcove.

Her wrist aches a bit from Potter’s grip.

* * *

Thomas and her have a picnic together on a Sunday afternoon when the weather is nice enough to permit it. He is sweet, and clever and Lily feels endeared to his blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

He touches her thigh. Tells her, “You’re looking pretty today.” His hand rests a bit too high.

She barely knows this handsome, older man and he doesn’t know her. _Boys only ever want sex_ , she thinks a bit bitterly.

And – as hard as she tries to ignore it, Potter’s statement about Thomas being a gentleman torments her.  

The evening after the picnic, she corners Potter in the common room just before curfew.  He sits with his mates in the prime seats by the fire, his messy hair like an eccentric crown. Her heart flutters, thighs clench, but she asks him very evenly to take a walk with her.

He’s bemused by her request, she knows. But he says yes anyway and they walk for a bit around the corridors on the sixth floor, chatting about neutral things like classes and the weekend. He is charming – they don’t often speak but she thinks they’d get on if given the chance.

Finally, he tires of the small talk. “Did you need to talk about anything, Evans?” He says curiously.

Lily shifts uncomfortably, a bit disappointed to end their conversation. She actually likes Potter, when he’s not being a complete prat. “Yes,” she says slowly, thinking about her reason for talking with him. “I wanted to – well, what did you mean about Thomas?”

“Edwards?” He asks, eyebrows raising slightly. This is clearly not what he was expecting.

“Yes, the other day you said he wasn’t – er, you told me he wasn’t a gentleman. What did you mean?”

Potter bites his bottom lip thoughtfully. Lily wraps her arms around her waist, wishing she had thought to bring a cloak with her to talk. Scotland is cold in winter and her skin breaks out in goosebumps at the chill through the corridor. It is past curfew now, there’s no other students or staff to be seen although the threat of Filch is always present.

The boy in front of her sighs and cards a hand through his hair in agitation. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he says finally. “It wasn’t…it’s still not my place to say anything. What you do with Edwards is your own business.”

He’s right – Thomas and her has absolutely nothing to do with him. “Yes, but you said it,” she says. She’s making it his business, whether he wants it or not. “Now can you explain it? Because it’s been driving me mad thinking about what you could possibly mean and _why_. Thomas has always been kind to me, so far.”

She thinks briefly of his hand on her thigh.

“Of course he’s being kind now, Evans,” Potter answers, sounding annoyed. “Are you really that naïve?”

“No,” she bites back, angry now. Her insecurity being thrown in her face makes her feel embarrassed and hurt, though she’s sure Potter couldn’t even begin to guess at how worried she is about being ignorant.  “I’m sorry if I thought coming to you for advice would be a good thing –“

She’s about to turn around to storm off back to the common room but he’s grabbing her wrist again and she feels like her skin is burning where he touches her.

“Don’t” he says desperately, and she feels hot underneath the intensity of his gaze. He drops her wrist quickly but the burning sensation stays and Lily fidgets uncomfortably underneath the weight of his eyes. “Edwards talks about you as if you’re a piece of meat, that’s why I said it. Ever since you started –“ here he gestures vaguely in her direction –“He just wants to shag you.”

“What does he say?” She’s curious to know what these boys talk about, if they picture doing the same things to her as she does to them.

Potter blanches at her question. “Not stuff you want to hear.”

“Try me.”

She’s surprised him, and it’s obvious. His hazel eyes are wide and his mouth parts open slightly in shock, as if he’s seeing her for the first time again. She feels pleased, and he runs a hand through his hair again looking undecided. “C’mon, Potter, I have a right to know.”

  
She has a point and he knows it. So he shrugs as if to say fuck it and says, “He talks about your ass. He says, well – not just him… How your breasts would bounce when... Your legs wrapped around him and the colour of your…” He gestures to her crotch. “If the curtains match the drape,” he adds dryly.

If she were to hear Thomas Edwards talk about her in that way she would hex him senseless, Lily thinks absently. But the dirty, derogatory words coming from Potter’s mouth leave her senseless. She’s never been so turned on before in her life.

“I –“ Her mouth is impossibly dry. “What do you say?”

Potter looks like she’s hit him over the head with a bludger. “ _Me_?” He squawks, astonished at her question. If she weren’t so focused on the span of his shoulders and his long fingers she would laugh.

“Yes, Potter,” she says, breathless. “I see you watching me, I know you probably think the same kinds of things. I want to know what you say you’d do to me.”

Potter’s jaw clenches, his hands fist by his side but he doesn’t look angry. He steps closer to her as if to say or do something but swallows the words, his expression feverish.

“Is there nothing you want to do to me?” She asks, coyly. 

Potter snaps and grabs at her waist, pressing their bodies together firmly, his forehead resting against hers. His breathing is uneven and ragged and his eyes are closed behind his glasses.

“Merlin, Evans,” he sighs. “The things that I would – You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Tell me,” she says. She sounds daring, confident. She feels half destroyed.

His eyes fly open, a dark hazel underneath the glasses. His hands grab at her waist tighter before one comes up to entangle in her messy, red hair. He pulls at it, teasingly, and she has to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning.

“Don’t be a tease,” he says, scolding her playfully before untangling his hands from her hair to touch at her lip softly. “I want to show you. Let me kiss you.”

The hand on her waist comes up to the hem of her shirt, tugging at it. If he were to step away she’s sure she would fall. “I –“ She tries to say something but she doesn’t know what she wants. She wants him to keep going just as badly as she wants him to stop and every nerve in her body feels heightened beyond belief. “Yes,” she finally answers and he breathes deeply before pressing his lips against her.

It’s hard, and curious and hot. His tongue probes into her mouth but he’s not gentle about it and he uses his hand to press her even firmer against the wall. The cold brick scratches at her shoulders.

She hadn’t thought it would be like this – for all of her late nights touching herself, the actual reality of someone’s hands on her is far more than what she had been expecting. And Potter’s hands are everywhere – they stroke through her hair, grab at her ass and thighs. His thumb rests on the top of her breast, hesitant, and she arches her back into him so he can feel the curves of her body.

He moans against her lips and the kiss becomes deeper, messier. He runs a hand over her stomach and she shudders, heat pooling between her legs at the sensation of skin on skin.

“Can I?” He asks, hand creeping further up, fingers touching the underwire of her bra. She nods, not sure if she could speak properly right now, and that’s all the incentive he needs before his thumb is stroking her hard nipple over the lace of her bra.

“Oh God,” she breathes against him.

He pulls his hands out from underneath her shirt and starts to unbutton it. She can feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her thighs and it takes all of her effort not to moan. He touches her breasts carefully, pulling aside the bra to show the dusty pink of her nipples.

“You are so fucking –“ He groans, dipping down to bite her collarbone. A sharp rush of pleasure runs through her. “You are so much more than what I ever expected.”

Before she can comprehend what’s happening, his mouth is around her nipple and he’s playing with her, licking and biting. “Please,” she cries, gripping his shoulders to keep herself up right. She doesn’t know what she’s asking for but she knows she needs something, anything from him. “Please Potter, James…”

He groans against her skin and her nipple pops out of his mouth, wet with saliva. He reattaches his lips to hers once again and his hand comes up to clench at her thigh. It’s higher than where Thomas had placed it, but she doesn’t care. She repositions herself against the wall slightly, allowing him access underneath her skirt. He pulls away and Lily moans at the loss of contact.

“Evans,” Potter asks, sounding suddenly unsure. “Do you want this?”

There’s no other answer to give him than, “Yes.”

He strokes her over her underwear, his thumb brushing against her clit. Her face feels hot and she feels so wet, wetter than she has ever been when she does it herself. “My legs are shaking,” she admits to him in a whisper and he laughs, kissing her cheek gently before sucking at her neck once more.

His fingers are only separated from her skin by the thin cotton of her knickers and that more than anything else is what makes her feel dizzy and breathless. She thinks she might die here, against the cold wall, with Potter’s hands up her skirt and his lips on her neck. 

She wants to make him feel the same way she is – the breathless, aching oblivion that she’s in – but her brain isn’t functioning and all she can focus on is the heat of his body against her and the growing tension between her legs. Lily shifts against the wall, her legs falling open a little bit more to allow him better access and Potter takes advantage of it by quickly, deftly slipping his fingers underneath her knickers and inside of her.

 It’s – a crescendo inside of her body. Her toes curl, her breathing quickens and she can’t remember a time where she’s ever felt so free, like the rest of the world doesn’t matter, nothing matters except for the wall supporting her and Potter’s fingers inside of her, building and –

She shudders around him, coming with a cry and clenching her eyes shut against the white pin pricks in her eyes.

It seems like a minute, an hour, a century before he pulls away slowly. She feels cold at the loss of contact and the harsh winter air bites at her skin making her shiver.

Potter takes a step back from her and the distance feels enormous. Lily’s legs still shake beneath her but she can finally think properly again and she finally has the decency to feel a bit embarrassed.

“You just got me off in a corridor,” she says, snorting a bit.

Potter smirks at her, wiggling his long fingers. “Too right,” he says and she laughs a bit hysterically.

“What about you?” She asks, feeling a bit lost. Lily doesn’t know the first thing about getting a boy off but Marlene tells her that that’s what’s done. A tic for a tac.

To her surprise, Potter shakes his head. “Na, it’s getting late,” he says. “Let’s go back up.” 

 He walks back to the Gryffindor tower with her and when they get to the common room he walks upstairs to his dorms without another word.

During lunch the next day, she tells Thomas Edwards that she’s not interested in dating him anymore. She doesn’t wear beauty charms and Potter’s eyes still follow her, tracing the curves of her body hungrily and she feels beautiful, sexy, feminine in a way that she has never before. 

* * *

 


End file.
